“There you are.” Constance pulled out a chair and sat knee to knee with Alice. “I have the most wonderful idea. No, it’s more than an idea. It’s a plan.”
She took the glass from Alice’s hand, set it on the table, and took both of Alice’s hands in hers. “Yes, a plan. And here it is. We’ve been thinking too small. We’ve imagined that teaching the girls at the orphanage their basic sewing skills, and then beyond, could equip them for higher-level work. Something beyond the mills. And we’ve thought they could find work doing alterations and such. And it’s true, they can. All that is true.” She lifted Alice’s hands and brought them down ino her lap for emphasis. “But, Alice, we never thought about creating work for them.”
Constance released Alice’s hands and sat back, waiting as if her words were somehow self-explanatory. Alice was intrigued, but thoroughly puzzled nonetheless.
“What would that work be, Constance? And how would we provide it?”
“Oh, forgive me! I’m just so excited. And Martin and I have discussed so much, I’m thinking your mind is right in there with ours.”
Constance had leaned toward her again, and Alice could see the bright enthusiasm in her eyes. She found herself eager to know.
“Well, here it is. We have the beginnings of a plan, and you are crucial to it. Of course, you are about to have your baby, and you will be quite occupied, but that gives Martin and me the time to organize and raise some funds and find space for a facility and—and I’m running away with myself.”
Constance laughed. Alice laughed with her, brightened to hear this new enthusiasm in her friend. True, her veil of sadness and tension had seemed to lift with Officer Pulgrum’s news of the arrest of Benton’s murderer, but here was an energy and vitality Alice had not encountered before.
“I assume I fit in as the primary instructor?”
“Yes, but for the more advanced skills. You’ve already prepared several of the orphans and half-orphans well enough that they will be able now to teach new beginners the basics. You see, Alice, we have the makings of a workable system for the advancement of these young women. But we need so much more.”
“And where does Martin Birdsong fit into this? Teach them sewing skills for their wounds when they inevitably cut their own fingers with sharp scissors?”
Their mutual laughter melded with the syncopated rhythms of the rug beating outside.
“No, Martin will be helping on the business side. With financing. He’s eager to put money of his own into this enterprise, but he’s also willing to help raise funding among some of the more charitable businessmen.”
“And what enterprise will this funding support exactly?” Alice felt thoroughly puzzled at this point, trying to negotiate a labyrinth of excited words.
“Why, a space and equipment. For a workroom. For dress and costume design. We will turn out to be in high demand among the women of the city. We will support the orphanage in a far more effective way. And we will offer the best design and sewing expertise this Mardi Gras town could ask for.”
“Have you thought this out? The logistics seem quite complicated, Constance.”
“Yes, too complicated for this one discussion, but here are the basics. While you are busy with the baby, the most highly skilled girls will assume their roles as basic instructors for the younger ones. Martin and I, with Dorothea’s help, will locate an affordable space, appropriate and safe, near the orphanage. With additional funding, we will order and install a beginning inventory of sewing machines.”
This new plan was coming at her at such a speed that Alice found it difficult to process. Teaching the girls at the orphanage to sew, even to sew with refined skills that might land them more lucrative work, was a long way from setting up their own shop. The management! The marketing! The expense! The whole idea was more than unnerving to Alice. And simultaneously exhilarating.
“That will take such a sum of money, Constance.”
“I know. I know. But I believe Martin can raise the initial funding, and as we grow, the work itself will help fund the growth. We will become self-sustaining. With a steady income for the young women.”
“Constance, each machine will cost at least two hundred and fifty dollars. That is a fortune. Plus, fabrics and threads and needles and scissors and cutting tables.” Alice stopped herself, then continued. “And rent. Or mortgage. And lights and heat in winter.”
Alice’s mind flew back to Chicago, to her first tiny flat, to the days after Howard’s disappearance and her struggle with money, the carefully rationed food, walking to avoid the cost of the city tram. How could they possibly take on these expenses? These financial responsibilities?
She saw Constance’s palm come up to quiet her.
“We know, Alice. Truly, we do. But I have to tell you the vision beyond just this. Yes, a basic new machine will cost two hundred and fifty dollars. And it is indeed a fortune. But we would begin with only a few. Perhaps ten. Or maybe only five. We might be able to negotiate with Sears Roebuck on the less expensive machines. They don’t need to be like the exotic one from Dorothea. And Dorothea has taken on the responsibility of raising funds from her contacts, and Martin from his business and social contacts. They are both persuasive, believe me. And well positioned for the task.”
Alice listened, taking in the hope of such a plan.
Constance clasped her hands and sat back. “Dorothea has contacts, you know, among the powers that be in the city and believes she already has a commitment for a small unused warehouse space only walking distance from the orphanage. She also has someone on the lookout for any used machines. A few seem to be available, as advances have been made in the mechanisms and wealthy women here want the newest innovations.”
“That will mean a good bit of maintenance adjustments, probably.”
“And you are skilled at that?”
“One has to be if one is to sew. The primary difficulty always is adjusting the tension. It has to be just right for the stitch not to be too loose or too tight. Winding bobbins and threading the needle, of course. These things vary from machine to machine, but not greatly. Now, if the treadle or belts are off, that’s a different matter, for which I might need a repairman. However, Analee has been quite adept at helping me with some of my mechanical dilemmas on Dorothea’s machine.”
“Yes, Analee,” Alice continued. “She seems to have an innate talent at a number of things. She could help the girls to learn—not all at once, but as different problems arose.”
“Can she help you learn those mechanics, Alice?”
“She has been already. I think I know it, for the most part, from my mother out there on the prairie, where there was no such thing as a repairman. And from working on Dorothea’s more complex machine with Analee. I believe, for the most part, we could handle any problems other than the most major and help the girls learn at the same time.” Alice almost laughed, imagining herself on hands and knees, working the belts to the treadle.
Constance scratched at her head beneath the relaxed bun. “Of course, in addition, as time passes, these girls will likely fall in love, get married. They will have children and will need to be at home. Our vision is this, Alice. When a girl leaves us, we want her to leave with a basic machine of her own. It will belong to her. She can take in sewing from neighbors, alterations from cleaners, extra sewing from our orders. She will be able to sew at home for her children, her husband. Make school uniforms. The possibilities go on and on, Alice.”